


Cider and Smoke

by kickintheshin



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Cannibalism, Domestic Fluff, Implied/Referenced Crossdressing, M/M, Mpreg, Murder Family, Murder Husbands, Omegaverse, Period-Typical Sexism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 06:10:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3436418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickintheshin/pseuds/kickintheshin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham has found himself fighting to be seen as more than a would-be housewife for the vast majority of his life. A meeting with a forward thinking psychiatrist and a single moment of defence forever might just grant him the ability to do that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fifties AU, born mostly from a desire to roleplay murderous Hannigram with a cozy suburban feel. Apologies for any historical inaccuracy that will undoubtedly occur. We've tried to follow the loose setup for Aperitif, but we're not following modified canon, in the long run.

Will Graham often stayed at work late, after the steady flow of students had slowly but surely seized to occupy the small space he’d been allocated to teach them in. He did this, not because he had to, but because he was obligated to. All Will technically had to do was teach his students about basic law enforcement etiquette, and mark the basic papers he handed out for his students to fulfil. Box-checking, lacking any sort of creative input. Yet he often found himself filling out administrative forms for students with some sort of issue, and, as he’d settled in at the university, having to deal with expectant colleagues dumping their marking on his desk. Because Will’s job was exactly that, a buildup of simple technicalities, that started at seven in the morning, and finished at almost nine in the evening.

So day after day, he sat at his desk, listening to the faint hum of the radio as he dutifully worked through the masses of work that had been left there for him to see to throughout the day. Though he loathed the entitlement that the work had been left in, he had to admit that it was slightly more mentally stimulating than mind numbing box ticking. And despite the thought of being home, surrounded y the comfort of the still dark, his dogs, he did actually enjoy the peace. He adjusted his glasses, tapping his grandfather’s fountain pen on the wood of the desk, to the gentle rhythm of the clock.

“Mr. Graham?” Voiced a man from the doorway, Will’s peaceful little bubble broken. The male turned in his seat.

"Agent Crawford.” He responded, smiling an ill-looking smile. Jack Crawford was a pragmatic man he’d been introduced to in his brief time working homicide. He was not one for pleasantries.  
“It’s been a quite a while.”

"It has indeed.” Jack replied with a smile.

"How have you been?” Will asked, after a moment of oddly tense silence.

"Good, good. Well, aside from recent lull in violent murder.” He replied with just enough sarcasm to keep Will sweet.

“I’ve have thought you'd have appreciated the peace.” Will replied, turning back to his papers.

“It does make for quite a boring day in the office..” He admitted, pausing.  
"That’s a lot of paperwork.” The Alpha noted. Will rested his pen on his papers, turning to look at the male in the doorway.

“We both knew you wouldn’t come all the way out here for to make small talk, Jack.” Will .

“What do you want?” Jack smiled, at that. Will’s bluntness, in a world where backtalk and bluntness simply wasn’t a done thing for somebody of such low status, was ridiculously refreshing. He closed the door behind himself.

“I wasn’t being entirely truthful. About the lull. There’s actually been a spike. In the… Violent murder department, I mean.” Jack admitted.  
"Well, potentially. I would like your advice. In fact, I’d like you to consult for me, Will. On a permanent basis.”

“I was under the impression that the FBI’s practices were shady enough, without you asking an Omega to consult for you. I can see the headlines already.” Will placed his pen on the table, taking a cigarette from a plated silver case on his desk and lighting the end with his Zippo, the end of the stick bursting to life with a glow of orange. Jack furrowed his brow.

“You have a brilliant mind, Will. We need brilliant minds. You don’t deserve to be drowning in this sort of tedium. It’s…”  
  
“-What, a waste?” Will finished, crossing his legs.  
“I’m a twenty-odd year old male Omega, Jack. I don’t expect much else from life, at this point. Society has continued to not-so gently remind of my place in her eyes.” The Omega exhaled a puff of smoke.  
"I’m sorry.” He didn't sound that apologetic.

“Are you really going to turn down less hours and more pay? The possibility of saving lives?”

"I don’t…” Will stopped, curling his lip. Jack approached him, easing the overflowing piles of papers back onto the desk.

“Come work for me.” He repeated.  
"The potential backlash is mine to deal with. I have… Seven missing girls, Will. Seven girls, who all disappeared without a single trace. And I need your help.”

“I’m-”

“You’re probably our only hope, at this point.” Jack continued, cutting Will off before he could really protest.  
“You’ll be saving lives.”

“And you think people will value what I have to say? With little to no viable evidence to back myself up?” Will inquired.

“It doesn’t matter what people think, what matters is what I think.” Jack answered.  
"And I trust your brilliant mind. It has yet to let me down.”

“Public opinion is very important, Jack. Especially when you're tacked onto the government.” Will replied harshly.  
“And, did you ever consider that I actually might not want to help you?” He regretted his words the moment they left his mouth. Jack gave a polite, tight-mouthed smile that made Will both tense and cringe. He turned away and slowly making for the door, 

“Jack…” Will stubbed out his barely burnt-out cigarette in the ashtray, standing.  
“I apologize. I… I want to help you, I just…” He admitted, adjusting his glasses to hide the slight hint of guilt.

“Just what? The only thing stopping you is yourself.”

"When I was given this job, I was assured a cushy, well-paying ride with plentiful vacations. I’ve gotten none of that.” Will paused to ponder.  
“But it’s… Safe. Comfortable. What you're asking me to do… It’ll be detrimental to me. I think we both know that, given my track record."

“You’ll be saving lives.” Jack reiterated.  
"And I’ll see that you get the best therapy money can buy - free of charge.”

“Therapy.” Will repeated dryly.  
"I want pay that adequately reflects my qualifications. And if I get saddled with other people’s paperwork, I’ll walk.”  
"I’m doing this to save lives. But I want respect. Promise me respect, Jack.”

“I promise.” Jack stuck out his hand, and Will stood, taking it and shaking it.

“I think we have an arrangement, then.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Hello, I'm Dr. Hannibal Lecter." Hannibal greeted from the doorway into his office. Will had been sat for some time, his bag on his lap, as he hesitantly examined the fine, tasteful art hung around him and attempted to relax in a setting he felt thoroughly uncomfortable in.  
"You must be Will Graham. It's a pleasure to finally meet you; I’ve heard quite a bit about you.” Will nodded stiffly at Hannibal, standing.

“Likewise” He replied, stepping into Hannibal’s office. He spent a moment marvelling his surroundings.  
“I hope I’m not intruding.”

"Not at all. Have a seat."  Hannibal went to his chair, sitting and picking up the file he had on Will, who had sat himself opposite Hannibal.  
"Would you like to read this?" He offered.

“If that’s what I think it is, then… Probably not. I get enough dirty looks without reading about what the FBI truly thinks of my contributions.”

"It's your psychiatric file. I haven't written any of it, but I wanted your opinion. I wanted to see how much of this was blind speculation." Hannibal handed the file over.  
"And I wanted our relationship to be as transparent as possible." Will caressed a few papers in the document, shuddering lightly.

“I’d… Prefer opaqueness, Dr. Lecter.” Will easily admitted, offering the file back with some urgency. His grasp was slack, as though the thing was poison.

"Alright." Hannibal agreed, taking back the stack of papers and setting them aside.  
"Tell me about yourself."

“I was assuming Jack would’ve already have given quite a colorful description of me. I’ve come to understand that I’m the subject of much speculation within the psychiatrist community.” Will sat back in the seat, running his hand over his chin.  
"I’m one of... A handful of Omega’s working for the FBI full-time. Officially, I work as Jack’s assistant. Despite my vast qualifications. I am, apparently, not worthy of proper employment.” He voiced bitterly.

"That tells me very little about your perspective.  I see that you can efficiently... Put yourself in other people's shoes." Hannibal said, glancing over at the file.  
"A useful skill for a detective, Omega or not."

"Arguably. I wouldn’t call it useful. It’s been more of a nuisance, actually, you'd be surprised.” Will replied with a dark chuckle, pointedly avoiding Hannibal’s gaze.

“It’s incredible.” Hannibal responded.  
“I was given to understand that you can completely assume the point of view of another person. That’s amazing.”

“Flattery doesn’t work very well on me.” Will laughed softly again.  
“But I appreciate it."

“Flattery implies I’m not being sincere.” Hannibal reassured.

“I'm taking it as an assumption that you haven’t labelled me as the manipulative liar I’ve been painted as my whole life, by most professionals I've had the pleasure of coming into contact with." Will inquired. Hannibal frowned.

“I don’t believe any of that. And, despite your distrust of him, neither does Jack.”

"You can’t deny his skepticism, though. His general distrust. It’s well masked, granted, but I can see it." Will looked up at Hannibal, meeting his gaze for a split second.

“What Jack may or may not think of you internally, you can’t deny his trust for you. He hired you, despite your class, despite the potential scandal such a move may have caused him.”

"-By marking me as his glorified receptionist.” He felt the need to add bitterly.

“Have you already gone to crime scenes with him?” Hannibal lightly probed.

“Yes.” Will admitted.  
"Not intentionally, though, I'll give Jack that. I visited the parents of one of the victims. A victim that we then found tucked up in her bed.”

“You understand motive, don’t you? What was this killer’s motive?”

“Not… Brutality, or hatred. It wasn't textbook.. He didn't hate his victims. He wanted to… Consume them. Honor them. They’re all dead, he has no reason to keep them around, but the fact he tucked Elise Nichols up back in her bed speaks… Volumes about his motivation. Or lack thereof.”

“What do you mean?” Hannibal took out a notepad and began writing what Will was saying.

“The killer pitied her. W-when Elise was examined, she was found to have a tumor. He’d already cut her open, examined, found it, clearly.  The examiners stipulated that she was damaged goods. And I suspect, if this killer is… Disposing of his victims in such a way that they're simply on the breeze, that must've been part of it. But there was love, behind his actions. He’s not a brute. He loves these girls.”

“What has he done to the other victims?” Hannibal inquired, tapping his pen on the pad of paper.

“He’s honored them. In his own way. I… Doubt we’ll ever find much of them.” Will looked away.

“Where have you searched?” Hannibal inquired.

“The authorities have searched thoroughly. Seven pretty, young, white Omega’s disappear from the face of the earth? They'd be skinned if they did nothing. Surely you must've heard about them.” The Alpha nodded.

“It’s quite hard to ignore them, admittedly.” He voiced.  
"I seem to recall the majority of the girls being of similar appearances.” 

“They are. Same height, weight, hair color, class… He’s filling quite the homicidal void.”  
“Naturally, the link sparked quite the manhunt. We're dealing with a man who is successfully disappearing young women, within a blink of an eye, not a single trace. Police departments and the FBI, as a collective, have scoured woodland, opened sewage tunnels, looked through bodies of water. Wherever he’s hiding them, he’s hiding them well. Too well.”

"Perhaps he's keeping them." Hannibal suggested.

“Elise is the proof that displaces that theory. He wouldn't keep on taking if he was content with just the one, or even if he'd kept two or three, even if Elise hadn't been the proof."

"Regardless.” Hannibal smiled.  
"I believe you will find those girls.”

“I highly doubt that.” Will smiled stiffly at Hannibal.  
“This wasn't what I was expecting. Most of my therapy sessions have been a lot more… Self-deprecating.”

"You're not really my patient." Hannibal answered.  
"I would prefer if you thought of me as your friend."

“I’m not a very friendly person.” Will replied, admittedly, in the nicest way he could. He simply wasn't interested in Hannibal’s friendship, the facade of intrigue that the Alpha put forward. Realizing that he was getting nowhere, he stood, Hannibal following. He offered him a handshake, one which Will loosely returned.

“Despite your self-proclaimed unfriendly nature, I do hope to see you again.” Hannibal voiced, not a single hint of malice in his voice, and Will simply had to smile, at that.


	3. Chapter 3

Will had just killed a man. Shot a man three times in the chest, had made the effort to stop to reload before dropping his weapon onto the tiles of the kitchen floor. He’d watched the well presented, atypical father figure fall against his kitchen counter as the life left his eyes, as his pretty young daughter bled to death beside him.

He was sat in the hospital waiting room, puffing on a cigarette a doctor had given him to calm him. His clothes were bloodied, and he knew he needed to go home and change. Yet he wasn’t willing to leave. He couldn’t even stomach standing, leaving the girl he felt wholly obliged to look after. He spotted Hannibal approach, the alpha wearing a stoic frown. Will purposely avoided his gaze, turning back to staring at the garishly painted wall.

“Will...” He followed Will’s blank gaze, staring at the wall with some distaste.  
"Miss Hobbes is stable.” He assured.  
"Come with me. We can come back when she’s well enough to have visitors.” Will shook his head, staring straight ahead with vacant eyes.

“I’m not leaving.” Will rasped, stubbing out his cigarette on the arm of his chair and dropping it into the bin. Hannibal stooped in front of Will, attempting eye contact.

“Will? Please…” Will looked Hannibal straight in the eyes, shuddering at Hannibal's invasive gaze.

“I… I j-just killed somebody.” He forced out.   
“I shot them.”

“I know.” Hannibal took both of Will’s bloodied hands.  
"Let’s go somewhere more private.” Will avoided Hannibal’s gaze, his hands relaxing.

“I… W-we....” He couldn’t even fathom a coherent reply. Hannibal pulled Will gingerly to his feet and guided him down the corridors.

“How does a shower sound? A clean change of clothes?” Will let out a shuddering breath, too weak to be angered by Hannibal’s clear babying of him.

“Peachy.” The Omega gasped.

Hannibal drove Will to his home. The drive was silent, Will’s head resting against the car window as he watched the world zipped past them. By the time they arrived, Will’s face had regained most of its color, Hannibal leading him inside to the bathroom and helping him out of his bloodied coat.

“I suspect you’ve already spoken to the police about this.”

“Yeah. T-they… I didn’t need to say much.” Will murmured. His breathing was heavy, but the gulps of air he’d been needily during the drive had seized.  
"He tried to… Kill his entire family. H-he partially succeeded, h-he… Kiilled his wife. I couldn’t save her.” His words flowed easier, and it clearly wasn’t what was bothering him. Hannibal, without thinking of how inappropriate it was, pushed Will’s blouse down his shoulders and reached over to turn on the faucet.

“You saved her.” He answered.  
“You saved a life. You took one, and you gave another back.” He paused with his hands hovering over the button to Will’s trousers.  
"Isn’t it… Godly?” Will let a shuddering breath leave his mouth, looking up to finally meet Hannibal’s eyes.

“I felt…” He closed his mouth.  
“Powerful. So… Powerful…”

“You had power over a man’s life.” Hannibal said gingerly.  
“You were powerful.”

“I… I was.” Will voiced.  
"I know how he felt. Taking those girl’s lives. It...  I feel… Horrendously… Powerful. Godlike.” Hannibal had stripped Will out of the rest of his clothing, helping him into the shower with a soft, pitying smile.

"Wash yourself, now. I’ll bring you clothes and start on dinner.” It was in that instant that Will truly realized his lack of clothing, and with a curse, he covered himself with the shower curtain.

“T-thank you.” He forced out, his face pinking up.

“You’re very welcome.” Hannibal responded, closing the door behind him.

Will washed the blood from his flesh, shuddering lightly as the emptiness quickly faded, and he found himself basking in a disturbing sort of afterglow. He clambered from the shower, throwing his clothing in the washbasket and throwing on the pajamas he generally wore during winter months, long and warm and comforting. He eased his dressing gown on and wandered into his kitchen, stroking Winston as he walked to the doorway, offering Hannibal a forced smile, as he watched the alpha work on a warm broth from the remnants of a half-devoured bass that Will had been tempted to give to his dogs.

“I found him the other day. Surprisingly good-natured.” The Omega told of Winston, his voice having regained some of its lost zest.

"All of the dogs are delightful." Hannibal agreed, glancing up from the strainer he was pouring the broth over.  
"I thought you'd appreciate soup."

“I do appreciate soup.” Will replied.  
“It smells delicious.”

"Thank you." Hannibal turned back to the meal he was preparing  
"Do you feel better?" He asked, setting vegetables into the pot and pouring broth over them.

“Not particularly.” Will admitted.  
"I feel slightly more… Human, though. Less raw." His gaze lingered on Hannibal for a moment.  
"It was quite… Inappropriate, you know. You taking my clothes off.”

"I know." Hannibal said simply.  
"I didn't mean anything by it. I used to be a surgeon, and I draw nude models regularly. Perhaps I have a more progressive opinion of nudity." Hannibal started the fish in a pan.

“If anyone were to find out, we could cause quite the stir.” Will leaned against the doorframe.  
"Your eyes wandered a little.” He bit back a smile.

"You're quite lovely. Excuse my alpha tendencies." Hannibal looked up from his work to rake his eyes over Will's form. Will grinned.

“I’m actually quite flattered.” He admitted, and he was.  
“Your wandering eyes took my mind off… Things. It was probably a good thing” He blushed, stroking behind Winston’s ears and wandering away from the kitchen.

Hannibal tasted the soup, adding spices and pouring a ladle of it over a bowl with the fish on the bottom to let it cook through.  
"Please, have a seat."

“I think I might lay down, actually.” Will replied.  
"I feel a little unwell.”

"No soup, then? Should I pack it away?" Hannibal asked.  
"Would you like a cigarette to calm your nerves?" He seemed very concerned for wills well-being.

“I… I just think I need to lay down.” Will replied.  
"I’ll still eat, just…” He’d paled quite a bit.  
“I almost forgot. I was… Distracted.” He admitted.

“Y-you don’t think less of me now, do you? After… I admitted that I…” He trailed off.

"Hardly." Hannibal set their meals on the counter and went to Will, guiding him into bed.  
"You did what you had to do to save your own life, the life of Abigail Hobbes. What you did was noble." He soothed, standing to get their respective bowls and returning quickly to Will's side.

“I enjoyed it.” Will replied simply.  
"I wasn’t in shock. When you arrived. I was… Reeling. In power, I felt so… Empowered, Dr. Lecter.” Hannibal pulled a chair up beside Will's bed, smiling faintly at him.

"It's natural, to feel powerful after a kill. Why do you think hunting is such a popular sport?"

“You don’t understand!” Will exclaimed sharply.  
"I spend my days probing the minds of killers! Only I know how they feel, now, how killing feels! How good it feels!”

"I do understand, Will." Hannibal soothed.  
"I took a life, once, long ago. He murdered my sister, and he was going to kill me, so I killed him before he could." Hannibal set his hand palm-up on the bed, an offering for compassionate contact.  
"I felt like God. I felt immaculate, like a king." Will’s eyes widened, and he rested his hand in Hannibal’s.

“T-that’s… Different.” He voiced.  
“I’m… Sorry. About your sister.”

"It's exactly the same." Hannibal said.  
"You were protecting someone else. I wanted revenge."

“He’d already tried to kill Abigail, though. It wasn’t even… Defence.” Will looked away.

"She would have died had you not done what you did." Hannibal said, brushing his thumb over the back of Will's hand tenderly.

“She might’ve had a better chance if I hadn’t wasted my time shooting her father to death.” Will replied, the contact comforting.  
"“I’m… Sorry. You have better things to do, I respect that.”

"I don't." Hannibal corrected.  
"Don't worry about me. I'm here for you." Will turned to look at Hannibal.

“I’m not worth your time.” He replied stiffly.

"You're worth all my time." Hannibal shifted closer, pressing their mouths together. 


End file.
